


Sex and the Castle

by Persnickety



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Severus Snape Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-08-07 21:19:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7730128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persnickety/pseuds/Persnickety
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Humorous spoof of Sex and the City with some familiar Hogwarts faces.  Smutty, fluffy fluff fluff. Lemons promised in every chapter. Yeah, I said it.</p><p>HBO still owns Sex and the City, last I checked, and the glorious JK Rowling still owns Harry Potter. I may mash them together like Playdoh (also not a trademark I own), but they still belong to their respective owners. I make no money here, but oh I how I love your comments!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sex and the Castle

**Author's Note:**

> I've been percolating on this idea for awhile and finally wrote the first "Episode". This will likely be 10-15 chapters long, depending on the number of "episodes" I write, and will somewhat follow the trajectory of the Sex and the City series over its six seasons (not the movies). There will obviously not be a episode-to-episode match because I'm already writing two epic fics at the moment and a third might just kill me. Or, at the very least, cause some pretty serious and confusing crossover between stories.
> 
> While I've done quite a bit of character matching up, keep in mind that there will not be a 100% character correlation (Luna Lovegood will never be a full-on Samantha Jones, though she does share her free-love attitude toward sex.) For fans of the series, I think you'll be able to spot who is meant to be who fairly quickly. If not, I'm not doing my job very well.
> 
> Oh, and come say hi to me on Tumblr. It's so cold and lonely over there... http://persnicketyfics. tumblr. com/ (don't forget to chuck the spaces!)

 

“I just don’t understand why you’re so upset about it, Lavender. It’s just sex!” Luna took a delicate sip of her pumpkin martini and flipped her hair over her shoulder. 

Lavender spluttered into her glass of elf-made wine. “Well I’m sorry if I don’t have your laissez-faire attitude toward the whole thing. I want to get married, not just...screw around. So no more sex until at  _ least  _ the tenth date. It’s just good business sense.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. Lavender was always trying to find some new way to land the man of her dreams, whether by crook or by hook. It looked like this time she was going down the old tried and true no-sex until committment route. Of course, Lav had tried that three years before. And two years before that. And another three years before that.

Now nearly thirty, Lavender Brown was starting to get desperate. 

Ginny laughed at the look of outrage on Lavender’s face. “Honestly, sweetie. Do you really want a man who will  _ wait  _ for the tenth date? Think of what kind of stodgy prude you’d end up with then.” 

“What, like you’re in any better shape than I am?” she replied waspishly.

“Hey, I’m happy to be playing the field!” Ginny replied. “I don’t have time for a relationship. I barely have time for you three these days.” 

“Still working yourself to death?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah, but it’ll be worth it. The Harpies are great, but I really want a place on the National team.”

"You know you'd sleep more if you just gave up the side job."

Ginny pouted. "I love teaching flying. I swear, it keeps me sane between games." The redhead shook her glorious mane back over her shoulders. "No, I can do it all for awhile longer. I'll sleep when I'm dead."

Ginny had decided long ago that steady relationships with men who couldn’t commit just weren’t the thing for her. She’d been scouted for the Harpies straight out of Hogwarts, but still returned several once or twice a week to help teach flying now that Madame Hooch was getting older. The busy lifestyle had been a blessing in disguise as Harry had completely lost it and declared that he was going to travel the continent and ‘find himself’ in the post VWII world. Last they’d heard, Harry was still sewing his wild oats somewhere in the US and living off the interest from his Muggle investments. He’d left Ginny high and dry, but she’d rallied and gone on to become one of the most successful female chasers in British history. Her current aim was to put paid to the ‘female’ part of that equation and become the best in Europe, breasts or no. She’d currently been enjoying a nine game winning streak as their lead Chaser -- a position that gave her incredible satisfaction and had her on the fast track to securing a place on the British National Quidditch Team as they sought a place at the Wizarding Olympics.

“What about you, Hermione?” Luna asked. “Any one new in your love life at the moment?”

Hermione traced her finger around the edge of her wine glass. “Not a prospect on the horizon. I swear it’s going to grow back if I don’t get out more.”

Luna snickered. “You put too much thought into it, ‘Mione. That’s why they don’t stick. The trick is to  _ stop _ trying to make them stick.” She shot a pointed glance at Lavender. “Have sex like a wizard. Go out, find the one you want, sleep with them, then  _ walk away _ . No muss, no fuss.”

Hermione goggled at her friend. Luna had certainly changed in the post-Hogwarts years. Since the abrupt death of her father in the year after Voldemort’s death, she’d quickly become the most feared -- and coveted -- news editor in the Wizarding world. She’d turned the _ Quibbler _ from a backwater periodical into a respectable daily newspaper that had quickly surpassed _ The Daily Prophet _ in subscribers. It helped that Luna refused to serve as the publicity arm of the Ministry. Despite their constant pleas (to hear her tell it), she ran a tight ship that reported actual news...even the hard headlines. And somehow she managed to do it all with a smile and an all-too-often spaced out look on her face. It boggled the mind.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Ginny agreed. “I can’t say I love ‘em and leave ‘em, but if you don’t have too much faith in them, they’ll never let you down.”

“I can’t believe you two!” Lavender cried. “I mean, you act as though you can’t be smart, successful, wealthy, and in a committed relationship at the same time.”

“You can’t.” Ginny and Luna chorused. 

“And I wouldn’t want to be with anyone full-time as it is.” Luna added. “How else would I find the time for my Wrackspurt safaris?”

Hermione sipped her wine to hide her smile. It was odd to think that Luna had gone from the spacey girl whose shoes were always getting stolen to a high-powered editor in the past ten years...until you looked at her hobbies. She was still off every third weekend to search for mythical creatures in the wilds of Africa, India, or South America. It made her friend a strange combination of frighteningly sharp and nearly insane. Not for the first time, Hermione thought that her friend might make a great evil genius someday.

“I’m not listening to this anymore,” Lavender said. “My date will be here any minute and then we’re having dinner and seeing a show and  _ not _ having sex so that I can get married!” She was starting to sound just a bit shrill.

Hermione blinked. “Date? With whom?”

“Aidan Creevey.”

Ginny sputtered. “Colin’s older brother? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What? He’s handsome and he’s successful. And he’s never once tried to get up my skirt.”

“He’s toxic!” Hermione said, laughing. “How many dates have you been on?”

Lav blushed. “Well, this is the first.”

Luna quirked an eyebrow. “I bet you ten galleons he tries to get you into bed tonight.” 

“No bet.” Ginny said, signalling their waiter for her tab.

“Well  _ I  _ bet he’s wants to get his new piece into the museum. He’s still doing those awful sculptures for the Ministry, right? I bet he wants one in the VWII Museum.” Lavender was the newly hired curator of the Museum of the Second Voldemort War, ensconced in the reconstructed southern wing of Hogwarts. She’d had people trying to get her attention for weeks in an attempt to have their works, memorabilia, or memories selected for display.

Lavender sneered at her three best girlfriends. “Well,  _ I  _ think he’s the one. I am the future Mrs. Aidan Creevey. Just you watch. Now shut up, here he comes.” She smoothed her hair and sat up a bit straighter, pasting a broad smile on her face. “Aidan!”

“Lavender, you look gorgeous as usual. Ladies.” He nodded to each of them. “Shall we? I thought we’d have a little adventure and eat in Muggle London tonight. I know of a great Thai place.”

“Sounds fun! I adore mi krop!” she gushed. “See you on Saturday, you three.” With a little wave, she strolled off on Aidan’s arm.

Hermione waited an entire minute before she began to giggle. “No way that ends well.”

“She’s too invested.” Luna said, shaking her head. “Never get that excited for a first date. Merlin, it’s like I’ve taught her nothing.”

“I think she deliberately ignores everything you’ve taught her,” Ginny said dryly. She noticed that Hermione was staring off into space. “What is it, sweetie. You look like Looney at the moment. Well, Looney before she became editor-in-chief and bollocks-busting witch extraordinaire.”

“I was just thinking…”

Luna snorted. “Oh, this is never good.”

“No, it is. I think I want to try a little scientific experiment. For research purposes, naturally.”

“Oh, do tell!” Ginny said.

“The having sex like a wizard bit that Luna was on about. I think I should try it. And I think I know just who to try it with.” Hermione nodded her head toward the bar where Charlie Weasley -- six foot, four inches of dragon wrestling beefcake -- was standing.

“Oh, not again sweetie. I’m not picking up the pieces from my dear, darling, ponce of an older brother again. He broke your heart!”

Hermione made a pfffing noise and waved her hand. “Yeah, like eight years ago!”

“And again two years after that.” Ginny replied. “Oh, and six months later. And again two years after that.”

“So? I’m over him now. I think Charlie might be just the type for this witch to love and leave.”

Ginny shot a glance at Luna. “This is all your fault, you know.”

“I think it’s a great idea. Go get ‘em, Tigress!” she said, referring to Hermione’s animagus form. 

Hermione slid off her barstool and smoothed a hand down the skirt of her dress to release any wrinkles. “Quick inspection. Everything ok?” She glanced at Luna for help. Ginny was steadfastly ignoring Hermione now. 

Luna leaned over and flicked her finger across the top button of Hermione’s crisp linen shirt-dress. “Undo that and freshen your lipstick. Then you’re good.”

Hermione did as she was told, then moved away from the table. Luna shot a glance at her best friend as she sauntered away. “Remind me to ask her where she got those shoes,” she said to Ginny.

“This will not end well,” was the redhead’s only reply. She watched as Hermione stood tall and stolled past Charlie on her way to the bar.

“Oh, Circe. Is that you, Charlie?” Hermione stopped as though on her way to the bar for another drink. 

“Hermione!” he said, feigning excitement, but hugging her somewhat hesitantly. “It’s been...what, two years? How are you, love?”

“Never better,” she said with a sunny smile. “Just having drinks with Luna and your sister, getting ready to head back to Hogsmeade for the night.”

“A bit early to turn in, isn’t it?” he asked, glancing at the watch his parents had given him when he came of age nearly two decades ago. 

“Well, Gin’s heading home soon to get some shut-eye before training. Luna has a business drinks thing with...you know, I’m not sure who with. So I’m on my own the rest of the night. Thought I’d spend it with a good book and a hot bath.” She shot him another smile, this one less sunny and more sultry. “Unless you can think of a better way to relax?”

Charlie’s winged an eyebrow as he leaned up against his table. “I might have an idea or two. Need someone to wash your back, Granger?”

“I might just.  
  
✤SatC✤  
  


“Yes! Oh, Gods. Don’t stop, harder Charlie!” Hermione felt as though her lungs were going to explode as the eldest un-married Weasley plowed her like a damned field. Rough hands gripped her hips as he thrust into her with everything he had; the downward motion of pelvis caused her ancient bed frame to shake and shudder as though it too were on the edge of orgasm.

“Just there!” she shrieked. “I’m close!” She felt a drop of sweat splash on her breast as Charlie gave everything he had, then finally reached down between their bodies to roll her clitoris between his fingers. Hermione shouted as she came like the Hogwarts Express on September 1st. Her partner erupted between her thighs a moment later, groaning as he nearly blacked out from the intensity of his own orgasm.

He flopped to her side and gasped at the ceiling of her little cottage bedroom. “Shit, Granger. Where the fuck did that come from? Last time I saw you, you said never to speak your name or touch you again.”

“Yeah, but then I remembered that you were awfully good at this bit. She leaned over and gave him a playful kiss on his pec. “Now, not to be rude, but I have an early meeting with the Headmaster tomorrow, so you’re going to need to toodaloo.” 

Charlie gave her a look that bore a distinct resemblance to a pout. “What, can’t even spare a glass of wine for an old friend?”

“Mmm, sorry. But it was fun. I’ll floo you sometime, kay?” She smiled as she slipped into her bathrobe, trying to ignore the little flop in her belly that told her to curl up next to the man and cuddle in. She turned and grabbed her toothbrush from the bath to give her hands something to do.

“Right, I can take a hint. Always good to see you, Granger.” He dropped a quick peck on her lips before drawing on his shirt. Hermione heard the front door shut just as she’d finished putting toothpaste on her brush.

She twitched her hair over her shoulder as she cleaned her teeth, trying to ignore the fact that ‘sex like a wizard’ just didn’t feel right to her. Maybe she’d get used to it?  
  
✤SatC✤  
  
  
The next morning found Hermione dashing up the long path to Hogwarts. She was going to be late, and she was never late. It would’ve been one thing if she was dashing to meet the girls -- they were always there after her -- but she was late for a meeting with her boss and the timing just couldn’t be worse.

She shot Hagrid a quick wave over her shoulder as she dashed up the steps to the main entrance of the stately castle. Unfortunately, the half-giant was just enough of a district to send her careening straight into Headmaster Snape. His elbow clipped her and sent her sprawling and her purse skidding across the flagstones, where it immediately spilled its contents out in an uncontrolled explosion of failed extension-charm madness.

“Oh, Circe. I’m so sorry Headmaster!” she scrambled to her feet and began shoving notebooks of lesson plans and research and bibliographies back into her bag. A tube of her favorite lipgloss rolled away from her, while a few loose vials rolled in the opposite direction. She found herself awkwardly grabbing at each object to shove it back into her purse.

A throat cleared and she looked to her left to see the familiar black dragonhide boot of her employer. “Yours, I believe Professor Granger?” He handed her a half-empty vial of -- shit -- her contraceptive potion. 

_ So much for separating your private life and your work life Hermione. Well done, there. At least now he knows that you’re sensible about your sex life?  _

Refusing to be embarrassed, she replied with a simple thanks and stuffed the bottle back into her purse with the rest of her belongings. She couldn’t help but note that the summer seemed to have done the Headmaster some good. He was looking rested and fit, and there was a healthy...well, not quite a tan, really. He didn’t look quite as pasty as normal, at least.

_ And he has such long, graceful fingers _ . Hermione barely resisted licking her lips.

“I believe we have a meeting, Professor?” that dark voice intoned. He quirked an eyebrow, but otherwise made no comment on their collision.

“Indeed we do. I have the Prefect letters drawn up for your signature, and I’ve collated the nominations for Head Boy and Girl.” As his Deputy, it was her job to see to the administrative side of the Prefect and Head positions before start of term.

“Excellent. I'd also like to discuss the Hospital Wing stores while you're here. Shall we?” he gestured toward the spiral stairs that led to the Headmaster’s office and suite.   
  
With a quick smile, Hermione mounted the stairs...trying very hard not to look over her shoulder and toward the dark, enigmatic man behind her.


	2. Nice Dress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lemons. Just, lemons. Yes. Lemons.

He was everywhere.

Everywhere she turned, she bumped into Snape. In the morning when she was getting coffee in the staff room. During rounds. Even coming out of her office.

Hermione was starting her sixth year as an professor at Hogwarts, and she could count the number of times she’d  bumped into Snape accidentally and have fingers left over, so reclusive was the Headmaster outside of mandatory staff meeting or meal times. In the past two weeks, she would have run out of fingers and toes. The man was simply everywhere.

It was almost as though he were bumping into her on purpose.

“I swear, Lavender!” she cried as the two women shared a bottle of wine one night. “It’s like he’s following me around, and it’s starting to make me nervous. What if he’s collecting infractions on me so he can fire me?”

Lavender giggled. “Hermione, when have you ever put a foot wrong at Hogwarts? As a professor, I mean. It’s probably just coincidence. Or...maybe he likes you! I bet that’s it. He probably fancies you and is working up the courage to ask you out.”

“I do stuff wrong all the time, Lav,” Hermione moaned. “Last week, Fenny Barielle blew up his cauldron and I cursed in front of the entire class! And I didn’t wear my teaching robes on rounds a few days ago because I forgot to ask Snickerdoodle to wash them. And...oh, there’s a dozen infractions he could catch me out on! Plus he keeps sending me these dour looks during meals. I’m a wreck.”

“First, calm down ‘Mione. You’re going to drive me demented if you keep shrieking. Second, Snape only does dour looks so you have nothing to worry about. Third...oh, I don’t know. I’m sure you’re obsessing. Has he actually sought you out on your own to talk to you?”

“No.”

“No requests for a one-on-one meeting? No knock on the door of your rooms?”

Hermione thought for a moment. “No. Not at all.”

“Then I’m going to call it coincidence and tell you to write it off. When was your last deputy meeting?” she grilled.

“Monday.” It was Thursday.

“Then he probably would have said something then, right? Those are still one-on-one, yeah?”

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, yeah, they are. And it it was the usual last time. Just business and divvying up the home visits for October Muggleborns.”

“Well, then you’ve answered your own question. Stop obsessing and pour a weary soul some more wine.”

Hermione snorted and did as her friend bade. Heaven knew Lavender was working her arse off trying to wrangle exhibitors for the VWII Museum. After a spectacular blowout with Aidan Creevy three weeks prior -- after which he’d proceeded to hook up with any pair of tits in apparating distance -- Lavender had sworn herself to a month of celibacy so she could concentrate on her work. Work that would most decidedly NOT include the poorly soldiered works of one Mr. Creevy. 

Not that the girls hadn’t called the failure of  _ that  _ relationship from day one.

Lavender sipped her refilled glass and leaned in. “So did Luna tell you about that new wizard she’s seeing?”

“No. I’ve given up on trying to keep track of Luna’s love life. I find it leaves me a lot more headspace for other things.”

“I think this one might be serious. She claims that she’s in love.”

Hermione’s eyes popped wide. “Really?”

Luna hadn’t been ‘in love’ since Neville back in 1998. 

“Really.” Lavender confirmed. “With Roger Davies, of all people. She ran into him in that little club by the Ministry -- you know the one with the chandeliers that Gin said look like --”

“Like Chihuly boners? Yeah, I know the one.”

“Right. Well, she says they’ve been out almost every night since.”

“That would explain why she’s dropped off the face of the earth. I thought it was just me with classes starting, but she hasn’t even fire-called me in weeks.” Hermione murmured.

“Me either. I heard this all from Gin, who only heard it from Luna because she interrupted them with her incessant floo-ringing. They’re so in love that they haven’t even done it yet.”

“That  _ is _ serious.” She leaned toward her friend. “Tell me more!”

Lavender laughed and set her empty glass down on the table. “No more to tell. But I think it’s time we met in Hogsmeade for a girls lunch. Sunday?”

“I can do that. Three Broomsticks at noon?”

“Sure. I’ll call Gin and Luna. I should let you get your beauty rest. You look positively haggard, sweetie.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You’re such a comfort.” She rose to see Lavender to the door, pausing as she grasped the handle.  “And you tell Luna that I want all the details when she finally shags Roger. And say hi to Gin for me too.”

Lavender didn’t immediately respond, and Hermione was momentarily confused as to why her friend had stopped in the middle of her foyer to stare over her shoulder. The blonde witch swallowed audibly before whispering, “Good evening, Headmaster.”

Hermione merely closed her eyes and wished that a hole would appear in the floor so she could sink into it.  _ First contraceptive potion in my bag, now this. He must think I’m some sort of nymphomaniac!  _ The familiar sound of the Headmaster clearing his throat sounded behind her. “Miss Brown, Professor Granger. I seem to have caught you at an...inconvenient time.”

“No, sir! I was just leaving. ‘Night ‘Mione!” If Lavender had moved any faster she might have taken flight.

Hermione turned just in time to see the corner of Snape’s mouth twitch once before settling in line with the rest of his face. “I certainly didn’t seek to frighten your company away, Professor.”

She colored and pulled the door slightly wide to silently invite him to step out of the hallway. The door closed behind him, but she made no move to step further into her apartments. “So, what can I do for you, Headmaster. You can’t want details on the Yule Ball already.”

“Ah, no. I came to your rooms to speak on a more...personal matter. Hermione.”

She jolted a bit at the use of her proper name. “Oh. Um. What -- “

“I thought you might like tohavedinnerwithmethisweekend,” he said in a rush.

“I’m sorry?”

He cleared his throat again and she fleetingly wondered if he was coming down with something. “Erm. Would you care to dine with me this weekend.”

Hermione’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. “We -- we have dinner every weekend, Headmaster,” she said, stalling for time.  _ Did Severus Snape just ask me on a date? _

“Please don’t be deliberately obtuse, Pr -- Hermione. I’m asking if you would care to dine with me alone. In a  _ non-professional  _ capacity.” This last was stated as though he were contemplating chewing pumice in the near future.

Hermione squeaked. _Holy Baba Yaga and her dancing chicken footed hut! Severus Snape_ **is** _asking me out on a date_. _Shit. Now what?_

“Yes.” She heard the word, but had absolutely no idea when her brain had decided to transmit it to her mouth. “That would be lovely.”

He stared at her a moment as though unsure how to proceed now that he’d satisfied the initial reason for his visit. “Excellent. I’ll just --” he turned as if to go, then lingered with his hand on the door before looking back. “Why?”

“I could ask you the same,” she replied, tilting her head to the side. “For now let’s just say that I’m  intrigued.”   _ Who is this person speaking through my mouth and somehow managing to sound alluring and sophisticated? _

“Fair enough. Sunday, seven o’clock? I’ll meet you here, if you don’t object.” 

“That’s fine. I’ll see you then I, uh, guess.”  _ So much for sophisticated, _ she thought with a mental shrug. 

The Headmaster gave her a curt nod before slipping out the door. 

 

✤SatC✤

 

Martinis temporarily forgotten, Luna and Ginny stared at Hermione. “You’re kidding me,” was the only thing Luna said. 

“I’m not. He marched right up to my door and asked me to have dinner with him tonight. Lavender was there, right Lav?”  
  
“It’s true. Well, the Headmaster arriving at Hermione’s door, at least. I didn’t stick around long enough to find out what he wanted. That man still intimidates the stuffing out of me.” She shuddered, causing her dark blond waves to shake over her shoulders. 

Ginny laughed. “Come on, Lav! He’s not that bad. He’s been nothing but polite to me since I started teaching flying part-time.” 

“Probably doesn’t hurt that you look like Harry’s mum,” Luna commented.

“We no longer talk of Harry, Luna.” Ginny said.

“I’m not repeating that dreadful epithet you gave your ex.”

“I thought it had a rather nice ring to it,” the red-head responded.

Hermione snickered. “Arse-face McStupid Breath doesn’t exactly roll trippingly off the tongue, dear. And is painfully untrue, no matter how much of a prat he’s been.”

“Ugh,  _ fiiiiiiine.”  _ Ginny groaned the word like one of their recalcitrant students, making the entire table laugh.

“So what will you wear tonight?” Lavender asked with interest.

Hermione hesitated, fiddling with the closure of her robe. “I kind of wanted your opinion on that.”

“Are you wearing it under there?” At Hermione’s nod, Lavender clapped her hands excitedly. “Show us!”

Her hands didn’t move. “I’m not too sure about it. Gin, it’s that dress that I bought on that shopping binge right after Boxing Day last year. Remember that horrid mauve thing?”

Ginny shuddered. “Ugh. Yes. I still don’t know why you bought that.”

“Because it was five quid and I figured I could transfigure it or charm it into something more my color. Only...it turns out synthetic fabrics don’t take kindly to magic. It’s a little, well --”

“Less talk, more show,” Luna ordered as their empties were cleared and fresh drinks were placed on the table. “Rosmerta, can we duck into the back room for a tick?”

“Sure, love. I’ll hold your lunches until your come back to the table.” The busy owner scurried back to the bar where a lively darts game was taking place.

Luna and Ginny each grabbed an arm while Lavender rushed ahead to open the door to the office at the back of the bar. Glancing at Ginny with trepidation, Hermione quickly undid the closure of her robes.

She was met with silence.

“It’s a naked dress,” Lavender said in shock. “It’s obvious you’re planning to sleep with him.”

“I’m not! But I’ll admit that the color-change charm did leach the dress of a certain amount of color.” Hermione knew she was understating it. The once-mauve monstrosity, which was made of a satisfactorily clingy jersey with plenty of lycra mixed in, was now a pale, pale blush color. It was conservatively in front, but dipped low in the back, so while not exactly  _ screaming  _ ‘sex’ it certainly didn’t remove the option from the table.

Luna pursed her lips and considered her friend. “It’s brilliant. You’d be a fool to wear anything else.” 

“Really? It’s not too much? Or too little?”

“It’s perfect,” said Ginny. “I never thought that dress could look so good. And the pale pink does wonderful things for your complexion. Smokey eyes tonight, just gloss on the lips. Are you going to wear robes over it?”

Hermione frowned. “I don’t know. He hasn’t said where he’s taking me.” 

“He’ll be taking you on your coffee table, Hermione! You can’t wear that on a first date. He’ll think you’re gagging for it, shag you, and never speak to you again outside faculty meetings. Think of the message you’re sending.” Lavender was almost shrieking; her voice had gone up at least an octave.

Ginny threw her hands up in the air. “Lav, she’s send the message that she wanted to look nice. The dress is  _ pretty _ . It’s sexy without being overt. And it’s appropriate for a variety of venues. It’s not like she’s going on a first date in an attempt to marry the man. Wait, are you?” she asked Hermione.

“No! I mean, I like him. And I think he’s dead sexy --”

“Only the most eligible bachelor in wizarding Britain,” mumbled Luna.

“ -- right, that too. And he’s brilliant, and ridiculously talented, not to mention the best resource in my field if I ever want someone to talk shop with. But I don’t know if he wants a date, a shag, or a relationship. That’s kind of what I’d hoped to find out,” Hermione finished. 

“Wear the dress. I’ll bet he wants the first, will decide he wants the second, and you can figure out if  _ you _ want the third after you have the second,” Luna stated authoritatively.

“I think I followed that,” Hermione said as she refastened her robes. 

Once back at their table in the corner of the Three Broomsticks, Hermione turned the focus of the afternoon to Luna. “So, tell me all about Roger.”

“She loves him!” squealed Lavender, clapping her hands excitedly.

“Seriously?” asked Ginny.

“I do. I do love him. He’s lovely. He’s kind. He’s a wonderful kisser. And he has a wand the size of a gherkin.” Luna sank her head into her hands.

“Oh no. I assume you’re using the term wand metaphorically and that your love is seriously underendowed?” Hermione asked gently.

“Both metaphorically and literally. His wand is short and his cock is short. I don’t know what to do.”

Ginny perked up. “Have you tried --”

“Don’t say  _ engorgio _ . You know how hard it is to maintain a charm while having sex. And I -- I couldn’t ask him.”

Hermione looked up at that. “Luna, are you implying that he doesn’t think anything is wrong?”

Luna nodded her head miserably.

“Oh, please!” said Lavender just a titch too loudly. “You  _ love _ him Luna. That should count for more than what he’s got in his pants.”

“I’m trying!” Luna replied testily. “I am. I haven’t said anything. We still have sex. It’s just so unsatisfying!” Her face crumpled.

Ginny suddenly snickered as her fish and chips sailed in front of her, which earned her a wicked glance from Luna. “Sorry. It’s just he went out with Fleur that one time. Now I understand what she meant when she said he was too short for her! He’s taller than Bill, you know.”

Hermione chortled a little as she her plate of pie and mushy peas floated toward her from the kitchen. “Fate is rather cruel. And his name is Roger!” Suddenly all four girls were laughing into their meals, which was only exacerbated when Ginny saw what Luna had ordered.

“Oh sweetie. Did you  _ have _ to order bangers and mash?”

 

✤SatC✤

 

At five ‘til seven that evening, Hermione was dressed, buffed, polished, and waiting by the door; anything but cool and collected, really. After an hour of agonizing and a panicked call to Ginny, she’d discovered that there  _ was _ a charm to make breasts look perky and prevent nipping whilst wearing a dress that didn’t allow for a bra.

Thank Merlin for Ginny Weasley’s sartorial prowess.

She’d done as instructed and applied enough makeup to highlight her eyes, tamed her hair into manageable waves, and donned low kitten heels. She was debating a coat versus a cloak when the knock sounded at her door.

She opened it to see the Headmaster looking rather debonair in a blazer and button down shirt -- all black, of course. He eyed her appreciatively when she invited him in, though he looked awkward hulking in her foyer. 

“I didn’t know where we were going. Cloak or coat?”

“We’re going Muggle tonight, so a light coat would be more appropriate.”

She smiled and turned toward the small cloak closet behind her, only to hear a what  _ sounded _ like a whimper come from her escort for the evening. She looked over her shoulder and saw that Severus Snape’s eyes had darkened to soot and were positively glued to her backside. 

She flushed, pleased at his reaction. “Sorry. I don’t have much in the way of evening wear. Is it appropriate?”

She didn’t receive a response. She watched in amusement as Snape merely tilted his head to one side to follow her posterior as she turned slightly to face him. 

“Headmaster?”  _ Oh come on, Hermione. That’s ridiculous. He’s staring at your arse and you can’t even call him by his proper name.  _ “Hello? Severus? Earth to Severus!”

His eyes snapped to hers and -- wonder of wonders -- a telltale blush stole into his cheeks. “You look...very nice,” he rasped. He reached out one hand to trace over the high neck of the dress, raising his eyes to hers. “It’s a very nice dress. And you look very nice in it.”

She looked up into his face from beneath her lashes.  _ Oh gods, Lav was right. It’s a naked dress.  _ “Well, that’s...nice of you to say.”  _ You might have miscalculated this one, Hermio -- _

His lips crashed down on hers with almost no warning, hands flying to her waist to draw her body against his before he backed her into the closet door. Suddenly all she could feel was heat and his lips and -- she groaned -- his teeth pulling at her bottom lip as he ravished her face, and she was more than happy to return his attentions. 

Her hands curled into the edges of his lapel to hold him closer and she found herself grinding her hips against his leg, seeking contact, friction, anything to dispel the snarling feeling of unrepentant  _ want _ that lay furled in her belly. With a snarl, he set his teeth on her neck, making her eyes roll back in her head. 

“Fuck. I want you. I’ve wanted you for weeks,” he panted between bites and open-mouthed kisses. “Please tell me you want me too.”

“Gods yes, Severus. I want you.” Her hands fumbled at his belt, ripping his shirt tails from waist so she could snake her hands under his shirt and spread them on the warm flesh of his chest.

He pulled her close again, effectively trapping her hands between their bodies; she felt the state of his arousal branding itself into her hips and moaned into his mouth. Wasting no time, he slid his hands under her arse and scooped her up so that her legs had no choice but to curl around his back. “Bed?” he asked against her mouth. 

“Sofa’s closer,” she panted in return.

In short order she found herself in her sitting room, her back pressed against the nubbly fabric of her sofa and the top half of her dress unceremoniously pulled to her waist. Snape --  _ no _ ,  _ Severus _ \-- made some kind of feral noise as he saw her breasts bared and dove at her, setting teeth and tongue to one nipple as his left hand tweaked and pulled at the other. 

Her system went into overdrive, back arching and a ululation of sheer lust erupting from her throat. His hands were everywhere -- at her breasts, in her hair, at her waist -- and all she could do was press her pelvis into his and say his name, over and over like a chant, a benediction. He released her nipple with an audible pop and turned his attentions to her other breast, all the while inching her skirt higher with his hands.

With little pause for ceremony, he pulled the gusset of her knickers to one side and slid two fingers into her core, pulsating the dual digits in a primal rhythm that made her want to buck and squirm and scream. She arched her neck and took in great gulps of air as his thumb joined the dance and pressed against her engorged nub. She couldn’t ever remember being this close, this fast. She heard her voice greedily begging him for “more, Severus. Give me more.”

Releasing her breast, he shifted so that he was kneeling between her legs on the sofa. Hermione was sure that they made a grotesque picture; the near-naked woman with her dress as a belt and a fully-clad wizard in black between her legs, playing her like a virtuoso musician. Her brain nearly fried as that mental image seared into her brain. 

Then his fingers were gone; she nearly sobbed at their loss, so close was she to finding oblivion in his touch, but he was pulling her knickers down her legs and flinging them in the general direction of her office. His nose -- and what a nose it was -- traced a path from sternum to her mound, pausing only to allow his fingers to part her folds and reunite with her center. Now his fingers pulsed in time to the flicking and sucking of his tongue and lips. She didn’t know what she was experiencing, just that it was utterly delicious. He’d curled his fingers into that sweet spot just -- yest-- up and forward and flattened his tongue to do -- Gods, what  _ was _ he doing down there? Hermione’s vision went blue as her orgasm ripped through her. She swore she could smell ozone in its wake as she screamed his name to the rafters.

And then -- oh Gods, and then -- a flick of the hand and a twist of the wrist and his trousers were banished to who knows where and she was pulling him up, seeking his mouth with hers to taste her own arousal on his lips. She twisted beneath him, trying to pull him closer, to communicate her need to  _ feel  _ him inside of her, surging within her. He got the message, nipping at her collarbone and flipping her over, tumbling them both to the floor.

Their abrupt relocation to a firmer surface slowed him not in the least.

Wasting no time, he lined himself up with her and drove himself home. She was still trembling on the tail end of her climax and felt as if she would shatter from the feeling of his cock within her at last.

_ At last? It’s been, what, ten minutes? Oh, do shut up! _

Inner monologue sufficiently silenced, Hermione tipped her head back to meet his eyes and began to move her hips in time with his. Twin moans echoed through the room as he rocked within her, insensible to time or surroundings. Sweat dripped from his brow and onto her chest as she strove to match him, beat for beat, as he rode her toward oblivion. 

“Fuck. Won’t last,” he panted.

She stroked a hand down his arm, feeling the lean muscle beneath his still-buttoned shirt. “Don’t. Come for me. I want to watch you come.” 

It was as it she’d spoken the magic words. She watched in fascination as his eyelids fluttered shut and the muscles of his neck went taut. His mouth dropped open as though he were attempting to commune with spirits and an otherworldly sound ripped from his chest as he poured himself into her. 

He trembled above her prone form until his eyes opened and he panted down at her body. He leaned down to press a fevered kiss to her lips, then rolled to gather her body against his as they lay on their sides on the floor.

Long minutes passed in silence as they ran their hands over their sweaty bodies. Finally, once they’d regained their breath, Severus quirked an eyebrow in her direction. “Hermione, I hate to ask, but would you mind terribly if we missed our dinner reservation?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My romp through SatC continues. I did promise lemons in every chapter, no?
> 
> Like I said, not an episode-to-episode match for Sex and the City. Because holy hell, that would take forever. Just some fun ditties drawn from bits and bobs in the show.


	3. Secret Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Severus have a fight. Kind of.

They’d been seeing each other for nearly two months before Hermione realized that they never did make it out to dinner. Not that night. Not any night. Upon reflection, it seemed as though they’d missed several important steps in the dating ritual.

They ate together -- in the Great Hall or her rooms, usually. They laughed a lot, read together on the sofa. They’d even managed to sneak a movie down in the Muggle Studies classroom. She wasn’t sure how he’d managed to get the elves to make nachos (she’d certainly never seen such fare on the table before), but they’d spent a happy hour eating goopy orange cheese and watching eleven men rob a casino.

Then they’d shagged like rabbits on the classroom floor. Not that Professor Harkworth would ever know.

All the same, they’d never gone out to dinner. They’d never spent time with her friends or his. She wasn’t even sure where the entrance to his rooms was, for that matter.

“It’s like I’m his secret shag-bunny, but I’m not good enough to take out in public,” she moaned into her cocktail as the girls gathered in Ginny’s new flat one evening. It was a lovely flat, really; on the outskirts of London, in Harrow on the Hill with a view of a field and a shopping center just a kilometer’s walk away. 

“Told you not to wear the naked dress,” Lavender muttered. “Now he thinks you’re only there for one thing.”

Hermione looked at her friend with a pout. “No slut shaming, Lav. It's not like you haven't had a few cocks yourself. And it’s not like that, anyway. We do all sorts of things together...just never in public.”

Luna popped her maraschino cherry in her mouth and bit down with gusto. “Secret sex.”

“What?”

“You’re his secret sex. You know -- the girl he shags in private but doesn’t bring home to mother.”

Hermione quirked a brow. “His mother’s dead.”

“Fiiiiine,” Luna said with an eyeroll. “Then the kind of girl he doesn’t bring home to Lucius.”

“Ugh. No thank you,” Ginny said, plopping down with a fresh drink. “Count your blessings, sweetie. He could insist you spend time with the Malfoys.” She gave a delicate little shudder before slurping at her Cosmo.

“I wouldn’t mind it so much if it meant that he actually wanted to take me ‘round visiting. I don’t think I like being the secret girlfriend.”

“Maybe you should talk to him about it,” Lavender suggested, scooping her hair up to admire the effect in the mirror across from her seat.

Hermione sputtered. “Right. I can just hear that conversation now. ‘ _ Severus, I adore being with you and the sex is great. Can I spend time with you around others before I fall in love with you and you drop my arse like third year Divination?’  _ He’d run screaming and I wouldn’t blame him.”

Lavender paused mid preen and shot a look at Hermione. “Are you falling in love with him?”   


“No. Yes.” She voiced a little inarticulate scream and buried her head in her arms.

“Oh, sweetie. Shag ‘em, don’t fall in love with them,” Luna advised.

“Says the woman who until last month was head-over-heels for a man with a cocktail weiner,” Ginny snorted.

“More of a baby carrot, really, but my experience only proves my point!” Luna proclaimed. She and Roger had broken up three weeks prior after a short and highly unsuccessful attempt at healing their near-sexless relationship in couples therapy. In the end their counselor had laughed at Luna’s description of Roger’s gherkin and he’s stormed off in a huff. Rumor had it he was drowning his sorrows between the thighs of any Muggle witch he could find. “Honey, enjoy the sex until it fades, end it amicably, then move on. You have to work with the man after all this, you know.”

Hermione groaned. “This is what I get for shitting where I eat. The problem is I don’t  _ want  _ to end it. He’s great. Great in bed, great to hang out with, great to eat with, great at  _ eating out _ . Why would I end things?”

“Then it sounds like you need to talk to the poor bastard. Otherwise you’ll never get what you want out of your relationship,” Ginny said in her typical no-nonsense fashion. “Honestly, you’ve let his reclusiveness drag on too long as it is. Get the man out of the castle before he decides that you’re just not the type of girl to be seen with. There’s a time limit on these things, you know.”

Hermione’s heart fell to her feet as she watched the other two witches around the table nod at this sage advice.   
  


✤SatC✤

 

“Severus, how would you like to go to that new restaurant in Hogsmeade. The one with the squirrels on the marquee?”

The wizard in question leaned back into his chair and rested his head against the back. “I’m knackered, Hermione. Why not just order something up from the elves?”

She gritted her teeth and forced a smile. “Because I’ve barely left the castle in the last eight weeks and I’d like to try that new restaurant.”

“What do you mean you’ve barely left the castle? You spent half of Friday night over at Miss Weasley’s flat before stumbling up the drive, gone three and off your tits.”

“Pretty mouth.”

His mouth curled into a little sneer. “Allow me a little leeway in my own bloody office, if you please.”

“Fine.” She sat in one of the hard chairs in front of his desk, squirming a bit to find a more comfortable spot. He’d charmed the things when he’d retaken the post as headmaster so that they couldn’t be transfigured into anything softer saying, unsurprisingly, that it kept both his staff one-on-ones and his disciplinary meetings short. They made for dreadful office furniture. She stood again. “I’ll just leave you to it tonight, then. See you tomorrow.” She moved toward the door.

“You’re leaving?” he asked incredulously, rising and following her to the door. He pitched his voice to a timbre that she knew,  _ he _ knew made her knees weak. “I thought we’d eat together tonight.”

With a little smile she waved him off (albeit reluctantly). “I’m suddenly feeling the need for alone time. I’ll just head back to mine.”

He reached out and skimmed a hand down her arm and to her wrist, keeping her from leaving the room. “Stay. We’ll have a quiet night together, hmm?” He pushed the door to his office closed so that he could press her against it, his body tight against hers. She could feel the burgeoning arousal through the layers of their robes.

Hermione responded to the kiss with alacrity, ignoring the dull alarm bell at the back of her brain. Moaning, she arched into his hands as they moved over her breasts and began to pluck at the buttons that fastened her robe.

Suddenly, she drew back. “I thought you were knackered,” she said, arching a brow. 

“Well I’m feeling rather more energetic now,” he said, his lips curving into what could only be described as a lascivious grin.

“I’m not. Sorry.” She concentrated on the buttons of his robe to hide the lie. She desperately wanted to crawl into bed with her snarky headmaster, but not if that was the only item on the nightly agenda. Surely she was more than an easy lay to him. 

Surely…

“Alright then,” he said, taking a step away and reverting to a more formal tone. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Have a good evening, Hermione.”

“Goodnight, Severus.”

She barely managed to make it back to her room before she burst into tears.

 

✤SatC✤

 

Hermione avoided Severus the rest of the week. It wasn’t difficult; her duties as deputy headmistress served as excuse enough to avoid all meals outside of dinner, and those she ate quickly before returning to her rooms to bury herself in work. He hadn’t even been at dinner the last two nights anyway, so she took to wandering the upper regions of the castle, searching the corridors long after curfew for students ensconced in hidden alcoves and darkened classrooms. 

Students learned to dread the sound of her heeled boots echoing in the hallways; every house suffered hefty point loss over the course of the week, and two unlucky students found their clothes charmed  _ to  _  their bodies for forty-eight hours as punishment for being caught half-naked in a half-hidden cloister.

She fell into her bed each night exhausted but unable to sleep, playing and replaying her last interaction with Severus through her mind. Perhaps she  _ was  _ simply a convenient shag. He’d not spoken to her all week -- about anything. Not that she’d really given him a chance to do so. By week’s end end she felt dizzy with exhaustion and dull from the emotional rollercoaster she’d surfed each night on her own. She  _ missed _ Severus, but she didn’t want to be just a shag. She’d thought -- 

Well it didn’t really matter what she thought. He clearly hadn’t been on the same page. 

Lavender had come on Wednesday and commiserated, consuming most of a bottle of wine whilst Hermione vacillated between sobbing and ranting. On Thursday she’d returned with Ginny and Luna and tried to perk her up with a facial and pedicure. Her toes looked fabulous, but no amount of magic lotion could cure the deep circles beneath Hermione’s eyes. By the time they left, Hermione was convinced that four days of silence had likely been overkill and that Severus was probably congratulating himself on escaping a deranged harridan with medusa hair and raccoon eyes.

And so it was that Hermione snuggled into her pillows at eight thirty on Friday night with fresh tear tracks on her face, content to let the rest of the castle fuck themselves into oblivion. She’d refused floo calls for the night, determined to get a proper night’s sleep and put her folly with her boss behind her. She took a quarter dose of Dreamless Sleep to ease her way into slumber and closed her eyes.

The pounding of a fist on the door caused her eyes to pop open again. A quick tempus revealed that it was just past one in the morning. “Fuck.” She cursed under her breath as she struggled out from her pillow nest and pulled on her discarded teaching robes to answer the door. “Something had better be in fire,” she grumbled.

She opened the door to find a somewhat rumpled and seriously peeved Severus Snape standing in the hall. 

“Hermione,” he said tonelessly.

“Headmaster,” she returned, surprised as he stepped into her rooms. She ignored the dark look he sent her as she used his title.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”   


She didn’t respond.

He waited. Finally he huffed. “Well? Are you going to tell me  _ why _ you’ve been avoiding me?”

Hermione shrugged. “I didn’t feel like a shag this week. As you didn’t come to me, I assumed you didn’t either. It seemed imprudent to bother you otherwise.” Damn. She’d been aiming for strident, but it had come out petulant instead.

His face darkened, but he responded in the same monotone he’d used since entering her rooms. “And you had no other reason to see me?”

“There were no disciplinary issues requiring your attention.” She shrugged again, feeling like the bad actress she was.

He paused. “I see. Look at me,” he said softly.

Hermione did so without thinking, then looked away again. “Don’t go in my head.”

“And how else am I supposed to ascertain what you’re thinking, Hermione. You’ve not spoken to me for days. You’re acting as though I’m just someone you turn to for sex and I know damn well that’s not like you. And you won’t tell me what’s wrong.” A hint of frustration crept into his voice as he eased one lean hip onto the back of her sofa.

“Isn’t that what you wanted then?”

“I don’t follow.”

“Just sex. No additional imposition on your time.”

She watched as his eyes widened. “And when, exactly, did I express such a sentiment?” he said, his voice sharp. “Please, enlighten me as to when I became such an utter pillock that I demanded you have no contact with me unless we were shagging?”

Hermione could barely breathe for the sudden tension in the room. “You never said a thing, Severus,” she responded softly. “In either direction. I’m merely responding to your actions.”

Severus scrubbed his hands over his face in frustration. “You know, I spied for nearly twenty damn years, learning to reading worlds in the slightest nuance, making life and death decisions based on the quirk of an eyebrow...but for the life of me, you’re entirely too esoteric for me Hermione. What the hell have I done that made you think I only wanted to shag you?”

She blinked back tears at the suddenly angry tone of his voice. “What have you done? You’ve  _ only _ shagged me, Severus. I ask to go out and you refuse. You never suggest we leave the castle. No one knows we’re even seeing each other except my three closest friends and only because I’ve told them. You go off in the evening to visit Lucius or Draco or Merlin knows who. We’re not exclusive --”

“We’re not?!”

“We’ve never  _ agreed  _ to exclusivity -- “

“Well who the hell are you shagging then? Flitwick? Longbottom?”

“I’m not shagging anyone else, you jackass. But you haven’t exactly said that you weren’t seeing others. I don’t know what you do when you leave the castle, and I’ve never once been made to feel that I can ask!” she shouted. “I’m certainly not invited to go with you. I’m here, your secret work-shag, while you’re still free to go off and do whatever. And I wish to the Gods I can do the same but I’m not bloody built that way, so don’t fucking scowl at me Severus Snape!” she finished.

His head dropped back and he stared at the ceiling a moment before responding. “Fine. I’m a dunderhead and didn’t make any demands of you or set restrictions. But you haven’t exactly been acting in character either.”

“What?” she asked incredulously.

“The Hermione Granger that I have known for more than a decade doesn’t wait for a man to demand exclusivity. She doesn’t meekly accept his decision to leave her alone while he goes out without asking a question or two. And she puts two and two together and realizes that the man she’s  _ shagging _ \-- and it’s more than shagging to me, thank you very much -- might not want to make their association public just yet. To either the rest of the school or the wizarding population as a whole.” He bit off the last sentence with a snap of his teeth and stared at her, waiting for her response.

“Well I’m  _ sorry _ if I’m behaving so out of character for you! It’s not every day that I strike up an  _ association _ with a man who has known me since I was eleven, who happens to have trained me, and who happens to be my  _ boss _ . Pardon me if I don’t quite know where the power distribution lies here!”

“Don’t bring our professional relationship into this, Hermione,” he said tiredly. “I’ve never used my position as your employer as leverage, and I don’t plan to start. If you can’t separate the two, perhaps we should end this.”

“I rather thought it already had,” she replied with a sniff.

He paused again, looking at her closely as she struggled with tears. “Is that what you want?”

“No,” she said miserably.

“Good. That’s not what I want either.” He sighed again before moving toward her. “Come here.” Long, strong arms wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug.

“Hermione, I’m not just shagging you. It’s not that for me. It’s never been that for me. If I just wanted to shag someone, I wouldn’t have taken up with someone who has as much history with me as you do. You matter.”

She sniffled again. “I didn’t feel like it.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t make you feel that you mattered more than that. Look at me.” He waited as she looked into his eyes, but did not look deeper. “I have not been in many relationships. I did not mean to be so clumsy with you.”

Tears started to spill over and she burrowed back into his chest. “I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions. I should have trusted that you would not be so callous.”

“Too right,” he said with a mirthless laugh. “Come on. Let’s tuck you back into bed. We can talk more in the morning. You look utterly shattered.”

She gave a wet giggle. “Thanks a lot. Though I haven’t really slept this week.”

“Hmm. Maybe talk to me next time, instead of assuming my motives?”

“Well what’s the fun in that?” She climbed into the bed, shoving pillows against the wall to make room for him to join her. “Stay the night?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

 

✤SatC✤

 

Hermione woke to warm hands and firm fingers skimming over her stomach. “Mmm. G’morning,” she mumbled, searching for her wand so she could freshen the morning breath that she was desperately trying not to exhale in Severus’ face.

“Good morning.” He’d clearly already made use of his own wand. Cheeky bastard. “Hermione, I want to be clear that I’m not  _ just  _ shagging you. Though I’m just shagging  _ you _ of course. Exclusively, I mean.”

“Yes…” she said, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“But I  _ would _ like to shag you still.”

Hermione laughed aloud. “I rather like the way you shag,” she said. “But perhaps we can leave the castle on occasion? Be a bit more public than we have been?”

The warm hand paused on at her navel as he thought about that. “You realize once Skeeter gets ahold of it, we’ll have no peace.”

“I’m not talking about taking an advert in the  _ Prophet _ , Severus. But...perhaps we could have a meal with your friends. Or with mine.”

“I draw the line at dining with Potter.”

“Harry’s in Europe somewhere, Severus,” she reminded him. “I meant he girls.”

“I suppose that would be...acceptable,” he said reluctantly. “I was with Lucius, you know. The last two nights. I suspect he would not object to dining with you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. My smirk is unbecoming on your face. Stop that."

"And what were you doing with Lucius these past two nights?" she asked, stroking her hand over his bicep.

"Drinking myself stupid because the woman I’m in a -- relationship?” she nodded. “The woman I’m in a relationship with wouldn’t look at or talk to me. Last night he told me to drag my sorry arse home, apologize for whatever the hell I did, and perk ‘Gregarious Granger’ up with a bit of slap and tickle. His words,” he finished hastily.

“Did he now? Well you’ve done the first two on his list. I don’t remember any slap and tickle last night.”

He looked down his nose at her -- an impressive feat, considering their supine positions. “I was waiting for you to stop crying. Tears aren’t really a turnon for me.”

“I’m not crying now.” 

“No, you’re certainly not,” he said before bending his head to hers. 

They made love. It was a new experience for Hermione in her relationship with Severus. Their couplings to date had been frenzied, raucous, and occasionally rough affairs. This was...different. 

She closed her eyes against the press of sunshine into her room and simply  _ experienced _ as Severus used lips and tongue and fingertips to set her nerve endings on fire. Not the roaring flames of their usual passion, but the comforting sizzle and burn that only one lover can bring to another. This was not a quick bang in the dark.

He tasted his way down her body to worship at the altar of her breasts, cupping and stroking their suppleness as he wakened her nipples with playful kisses and nips. Hermione, for her part, was happy to enjoy his ministrations, revelling in the feel of his hair beneath her hand, the fine strands tickling against her wrists where the ends brushed her skin. She almost whimpered as she felt his head move away from her hands to worship at a different altar entirely, causing her to invoke the names of more than one god before she came in a starburst of sensation.

When he slid home, it was his name -- not his title -- that she cried aloud. He felt huge within her, even after so short an absence, and the sheer joy of fullness had Hermione battling against tears once again. Severus bent to kiss the salty tracks they left behind as they rolled away into her tangled curls, ignoring his own recently declared dislike for their presence in favor of savoring her euphoric cries as she canted her hips to meet him. He came with her name on his lips.

Long minutes later, he rolled off her prone form and swiped his hair out of his eyes. “Not just a shag, Hermione, but I  _ am  _ glad sex is on the menu.”

They settled in for an early weekend nap with smiles on their lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh. I'm blocked on my two longer fics...and when writer's block strikes, the only thing I know to do is write something else for a bit. So SatC has been brought back from its undeclared hiatus for Chapter 3. Sexy times included, as promised (in EVERY chapter!)


	4. Girl's Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girls catch up over drinks.

“I’m in LOVE!” Lavender’s hair bounced a bit as she sat down in their normal booth at the Three Broomsticks and grinned at her friends.

“Pass the salt?” asked Ginny.

Luna shoved it her way before sipping at her tea -- some sort of concoction made of steamed gurdyroot and gnome hair that Hermione didn’t really want to contemplate too deeply. She popped another chip in her mouth and chewed contemplatively, waiting for Lavender to lose her tempe --

“Well, aren’t you even going to  _ ask? _ ” Lavender asked testily.

_ Ah, there it is _ . “Alright, Lav. Calm down. With whom are you in love?”

“Oh, he’s just  _ dreamy _ . You’ll remember him from school. Theo. Theo Nott.”

Hermione snorted. “Slytherin. Smart enough not to take a side in VWII. Rich, privileged, and only slightly less a prat that Draco Malfoy. Better hair though.”

Luna shot Hermione a look. “You don’t like Draco’s hair.”

“Please. It’s like baby hair. Have you ever seen it wet? He looks almost bald.” 

“When have you ever had the opportunity to see Draco’s hair wet, Hermione?” Ginny asked with her mouth full.

“Prefect’s bath, sixth year. Got an eyeful of a few other things to, if you’re curious,” she said, waggling her eyebrows.

Luna and Ginny leaned in, all smiles.

“Helloo? Remember me? The friend who just told you she was in love with Theo Nott who is, by the way, not a prat and definitely not balding and  _ who has a very large package if his pants are any indication _ !” Lavender shrieked, her voice rising above the weekday din in the pub.

The other three women at the table sat back in their chairs with tired looks. “Fine, Lav. Tell us about dear Theo,” Luna said bracingly.

 

✤SatC✤

 

“He  _ saved _ me. I would have fallen if he hadn’t caught me!”

“He stopped you from tripping down the last three stairs at the Ministry. It’s not like he threw himself bodily in front of the Hogwarts Express,” Luna muttered, jolting as Hermione kicked her shin under the table.

Hermione smiled at Lavender indulgently. “Yes, dear, he saved you. What were you doing at the Ministry anyway? I went by your rooms last night with a bottle of wine and wondered why you weren’t there.”

“You mean you finally wriggled out from beneath the Headmaster?” the blonde witch giggled.

“Shut it! Seriously.”

“Oh, you’ll never believe it. I was there about the funding for the VWII Museum. Your brother, Gin, told me there was a hangup with the discretionary fund and called me in. Then he bloody flew at me!”

That caught Ginny’s attention. “What?"

“Like a damned tentacula. All tongues and hands and...I had no idea he was even  _ interested  _ and then he was all over me like white on rice!”

Hermione swallowed a laugh. “What is it with the Weasley men and groping, I wonder?”

“No idea, but it’s tied to the bloody Y chromosome!” the redhead responded.

“ _ Anyway _ ,” Lavender continued, “Theo saved me. Caught me and everything, then invited me out for a late dinner.”

“Aw,” Ginny and Hermione cooed, much to Luna’s distress.

“Don’t make that noise! You’ll attract the --”

“What, Luna? Wild snagglepusses? Angry goober hornets?”

“Ladies, I’m going to have to ask you to keep it down over there!” Rosmerta’s voice rang across the pub.

“I was going to say the attention of our tolerant publican, but never mind,” Luna muttered.

“I think he’s the one,” Lavender said, dropping her voice.

“Now where have I heard that before?” Ginny responded, rolling her eyes.

“No, I  _ mean _ it. He’s  _ perfect.  _ Handsome, smart, influential, confident,”

“Loaded,” Luna finished.

“I’m not that shallow.”

Now it was Ginny’s turn to snort. “You are.”

 

✤SatC✤

 

By the third round, they’d focused on Ginny’s love life. “I met a guy at the British National Team open tryout last month.”

“Has it really been a month since I’ve seen you?” Hermione asked.

Lav shook her head. “Try two. Nearly. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said you’d been trapped under Snape.”

“Oh Merlin, I’ve become that woman we hate, haven’t I?”

“You really have,” Ginny confirmed. “Now shut up while I tell you about my new man.” 

“Mmm hmm. Tall, handsome, witty, smart, built. And wicked fast on a broom. He’s a rookie seeker for Pride of Portree and rides the Firebolt Proform 3, which isn’t exactly known for its maneuverability. He made that thing turn on a dime.” Ginny sat back and fanned herself sighing, “be still my heart.”

“Sounds yummy,” Luna commented. “Did he make the team?”

“He did. Got picked up as reserve Seeker for the national team. I don’t know why Portree isn’t starting him instead of Flint. The guy’s a genius.”

“And his name?”

“Forget his name,” Hermione interrupted. “Did  _ you _ make the team?” She knew how much Ginny had her heart set on making the national team before thirty. It had been her life goal since the age of fourteen.

“Just found out this morning,” Ginny said with a grin. “You’re looking at the Britain’s starting Chaser!”

“Eeeeeee!” Hermione squealed, launching herself at her friend. “Ginny, that’s WONDERFUL!”

Lavender and Luna scurried around the table to pile on top of Ginny with their hugs, causing Rosmerta to rush over once again. “Ladies, please! This is a respectable establishment. Keep it down or rent a private room, otherwise I’ll have to ask you to leave!”

“We’re sorry Rosmerta,” Hermione apologized. “Ginny’s just found out she made the national team as starting Chaser. We forgot ourselves.”

“Oh! Well, that’s different then. Congratulations to you, my girl! Next round’s on me.” The publican gave her patron an awkward hug and scurried back to the bar.

“What an odd woman,” Lav said.

“Tell me. She tries to keep the noise down on weeknights. Not sure why she’s so obsessive about it, but I guess if I ran a pub I’d only want to have to deal with the noise twice a week myself.”

“Maybe she’s got Flitzblingers in her ears. They can make one sensitive to noise,” Luna said dreamily.

“Or maybe she’s just not into screaming women on a Tuesday night,” Hermione said in riposte.

“Or maybe she’s not in her dotage yet and can hear every word you’re saying,” Rosmerta called from the bar, slapping her rag on its shining surface.

“Sorry!” the women chorused.

Luna smiled at Rosmerta cheekily before turning back to Ginny. “Okay, spill. Name?”

“Philippe. Philippe Bicheroux.” Hermione snorted, earning a smack from Ginny.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“What was that about?”

“Nothing! Nothing, I swear. Just...something struck me as humorous. Go on.”

“Right.  _ Anyway. _ He’s lovely. Kind, attentive. A beast in bed,” she said with a smirk.

“Sounds perfect for you,” Luna stated decisively. “Smart, witty, and hot. You’ve officially landed the trifecta.”

“Don’t forget French!” Lavender added with a giggle. Hermione struggled to contain her eyeroll. She’d definitely been spending too much time with Severus. “And it doesn’t hurt when you’re a tall, gorgeous, smart, athletic, red-haired war heroine either.”

“Well, Lav, he’s really only to tide me over while I wait for you.” Ginny batted her eyes in mock flirtation before filching one of Hermione’s chips. “He’s not French, anyway. His parents were, but he was raised in Wales. Couldn’t play for Britain if he wasn’t a native, no could he?” She reached for another chip and grunted when Hermione slapped her hand away, then laughed.

“Gods, I’ve missed you guys.”

“Then don’t disappear on us for two months at a time, ‘Mione” she shot back with her mouth full. “I mean, he’s good at sex, but we’re your hetero lifemates darling. Kindly remember us whilst you and Snape are shagging like nympho-bunnies.”

“I believe they’ll find that they’re called Hypersexual Bunhoppers, Gin, and that they breed only under the new moon” Lavender said with a snerk.

Somehow she managed not to spit her drink when Luna bopped her on the back of her head.

 

✤SatC✤

 

Two hours of drinks and laughter later, Hermione and Lavender made their way back to the castle for the night while Luna and Ginny parted ways outside the Three Broomsticks. With near-silent pops, they each apparated back to their respective flats. Ginny glanced at her watch -- a gift from her parents on her seventeenth birthday -- and noted that it was still early enough to have Philippe over for coffee  _ and _ . A quick patronus and well-practiced glamour followed as Ginny raced into the bedroom of her little flat and shimmied into a sapphire blue babydoll nightie. The knock at the door to her flat had her smoothing her hair and charming the light in her bedroom to a gentle glow before she welcomed Philippe into her home.

“Hello you,” she said with a smile, standing brazenly in the light of her sitting room and knowing full well that he could see absolutely everything through the cheer silk of her lingerie.

“Fuck,” the man breathed, raising a shaking hand to brush his messy hair out of his face. Hazel eyes roamed her body as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “You are, without a doubt, the most stunningly beautiful witch I have ever seen in my life. And you’re mine.”

“Mmm hmm. All yours.” She giggled softly. “I spent half the night with the girls, telling them all about you. I do believe I’ve made them jealous,” Ginny said, reaching out to begin popping the buttons on Philippe’s shirt one at a time. 

He ran his hands down her arms and began to maneuver her toward the bedroom. “Lucky me, to be the focus of such famous -- and infamous, I suppose -- witches.” He leaned in to nip at her mouth before slowly, so slowly sliding his tongue along it and between the plump red lips. “You taste of sweet. And sharp.”

“Manhattans,” she breathed. “Lavender’s obsessed.”

“I approve,” he growled deep in his throat. “Are you particularly attached to this nightshirt?”

Ginny glanced down and noted that her breasts were rising and falling in an appealingly heaving fashion. “I’d rather you didn’t tear it, if that’s what you asking,” she said, removing his shirt and tackling the fly on his pants. 

“Then I suggest you take it off,” he wheezed as her slim hand slipped into his trousers to find him hot, hard, and ready to play.

Removing her hand she quickly tore the gown over her head and shucked it in the corner, standing proudly in the golden light of her room completely nude. Philippe didn’t hesitate: he pounced. In short order Ginny found herself on her back with her lover poised above her with his pants around his ankles. 

He took hold of her hands and wrapped them around the curving curlicues of her headboard, a gorgeous affair in patinaed wrought iron. “Hold tight,” he said before driving himself into her wet heat. 

She shrieked as he pierced her, reveling in the feeling of  _ home _ that seemed to arise from their lovemaking. They fit perfectly. They had from the beginning. 

“I want it hard tonight,” she said breathlessly.

Philippe simply snarled and began to thrust.

...

She got very little sleep that night and arrived at the first nationals drill-day feeling loose, limber, and just a bit sore. She had the best practice of her life.

 

✤SatC✤

 

“As I live and breathe. Philippe Bicheroux, I presume?” Hermione said as she slid into a dimly-lit corner booth at the Niffler’s Revenge, a small family restaurant outside Edinburgh.

“And the famous Hermione Granger. I’ve read about you, of course,” the Quidditch rookie said in perfect English. “I’m pleased to see you. I’ll say that I was surprised by your request to meet.”

“I just bet you were.  _ Ceux qui se cachent sont toujours surpris d'être retrouvés. _ ”

He gave her a tight smile and lifted his mug of tea for a sip. Hermione simply watched him drink. After a few moments he shifted uncomfortably, causing the scant light to bounce off an odd ring on his right hand.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware, Miss Granger, but I’m in a relationship. So if this is an attempt at an assignation…”

“Oh, no. I’m well aware that you’re with Ginny. She’s quite smitten with you, you know.” Hermione smiled cryptically. “That’s why I wanted to meet you. I wanted to see how you felt about my friend. She’s been hurt before, you see. Terribly. I don’t want that to happen again.”

Philippe seemed to settle more comfortably into his chair. “I love her,” he said softly. “I don’t think she loves me yet, though. I’m willing to wait.”

“Oh, how lovely,” Hermione said before taking care to continue in the sweetest, most non-threatening way possible. “ _ Et comment pensez-vous qu'elle réagira quand elle apprendra votre vérité, mon ami? _ ”

A flash of panic raced through Philippe’s face before it was gone. “Unfortunately, I need to cut this meeting short. Britain is in the quarter-finals for the European Cup this year and we have brutal practices every morning. I should really be going.”

“Of course, of course. I don’t want to keep you. I do hope we’ll meet again, especially as you’re in love with my best friend.”

“I have no doubt we’ll see each other often,” Philippe replied graciously, placing a few coins on the table for their tea. “ _ Un plaisir, Mlle Granger. Un grand plaisir. _ ”

Hermione made a noise of agreement as he rose to leave.  _ “Oui bien sûr. Bienvenue à la maison, Harry. _ ”

‘Philippe’ sat down again with a thump.

“Fuck. I should have known better than to try to fool you.”

Hermione schooled her face into neutrality before responding. “Yes, you really should have Harry. Why on earth did you even agree to this meeting?”

“Can’t a bloke want to see his best friend?”

“Of course. But a bloke usually doesn’t meet his best friend with the help of a disguise charm.” She nodded her head toward the ring. “One of George’s?”

He smiled slightly before slipping it off. “Modified from his early prototype. Took three years to get it right.” As soon as the ring was placed on hard wood, Hermione watched as the tall, buff Philippe shifted into tall, buff Harry Potter. “How’d you figure it out?”

She snorted. “The name. Horse-lover Red-doe? Really, Harry? Ginny is my best female friend. I’m hardly about to forget what her patronus is. That and your French pronunciation is atrocious. Even if ‘Philippe’ was raised in Britain, French parents would have corrected that at an early age.”

He grimaced. “Shit. Do you think anyone has noticed?”

“The English aren’t really known for their mastery of French, Harry.”   


“Since when do you speak it, then?” He seemed confused. “As I recall, you only had Latin and Ancient Greek under your belt by the time I left on my travels.”

“I did my Potions Mastery under Severus Snape, Harry. And a basic understanding of German, French, and Italian is necessary for any Potions Mastery. Severus if fluent in all three and insisted I become fluent as well. So between a few judiciously applied language acquisition charms and Severus’ drilling on pronunciation, here I am.”

“Should’ve known,” he repeated. “At least Ginny doesn’t speak it.”

“Lucky you,” she responded dryly. “My question from before holds, though. How, exactly, do you plan on telling Ginny that she’s been shagging not her Quidditch-mad boyfriend of French extraction, but her ex lover who left her high and dry to ‘travel the world’ and find himself years ago? And just how did you manage to justify lying to her all this time?” She fixed him with a stern look and drummed her fingers on the table. 

“It -- I --.” He swallowed audibly and began again. “I never intended to return to Ginny, Hermione. This wasn’t a plan. I just wanted to come home. I’ve wanted to come home for years, really, but I didn’t want the attention. The Boy Who Lived and all that rot. I knew I wanted to play Quidditch, but I wanted to earn a spot in the league on my own merits, not as Harry Fucking Potter, savior of Wizarding Britain, you know?”

She regarded him balefully before nodding her head in acceptance. Avoidance of the obligations associated with war-heroism she understood; it was half the reason she’d taken the apprenticeship, then the position at Hogwarts to begin with.

“And I did make it. On my own, just me. And I’ve done alright, even though it’s a second seed spot. But then trials for the national team came up and I managed to snag a spot and...Ginny was there. We just sort of clicked into place.”

“She’s halfway in love with you, Harry. Or, rather, she’s halfway in love with the person she thinks is you. With Philippe. I don’t know what will happen when she learns the truth. You broke her heart once already, Harry. This might just shatter her.”

He dropped his gaze to the table. “I know.”

“You have to tell her.”

A sigh. “Yes, I know. I plan to after finals. I’d tell her now, but she’d hex me six ways from Sunday if I broke her concentration right now.”

“Oh, Harry. You daft sod. Do you really think Ginny isn’t going to hex you six ways from Sunday anyway?”

“I missed you too, Hermione.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> “Those who hide are always surprised to be found.”
> 
>  
> 
> “And how do you think she’ll react when she learns your truth, my friend?”
> 
>  
> 
> “Yes, of course. Welcome home Harry.”


End file.
